


in a different light.

by projectfreelancer



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-20
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-06-13 09:40:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15361641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/projectfreelancer/pseuds/projectfreelancer
Summary: He wants to fight it. It’s one thing for him to touch someone else, to care for someone else, but another thing for anyone to care for him. Tim shouldn’t even be here with him. Tim shouldn’t even trust him. Jason has proven time and time again that he is not worthy of trust. Is not worthy of Tim.





	in a different light.

**Author's Note:**

> tim is OF AGE in this fic.
> 
> I wrote this for a friend of mine because we love jaytim angst where Jason tries to push Tim away because he's "bad for him." My first DC fanfic!

“You don’t have to do this, ya’ know. Can patch myself up. I’ve done it plenty of times.”

Tim huffs at that. “I’m not going to just let you bleed out, Jason.” His tone is almost bratty, ringing too closely to Damian during one of his tantrums. Jason almost laughs at the thought, but his mind feels dizzy as Tim tightens the gauze around his wound.

“Right,” is all Jason can respond with, cold and distant. But then he meets Tim’s eyes, and it’s — too much, the way Tim watches him sometimes. Like he’s sad for Jason. Like he sees something _more_ inside him. Jason thinks it would have been easier if Tim kept on being afraid of him, kept his distance. But now Jason’s blood stains Tim’s fingers, and he has to look away before Tim can make anything more of the scene.

Jason still does not understand why Tim ever came to him. He has the whole family. He has Dick; he has Damian. No one ever really _has_ Bruce, but he knows Bruce loved him at the very least. Jason should have been the last one Tim would ever trust, the last one Tim would ever come to without orders to do so.

 

 **(** _“Hood,” and the voice is so familiar, but it takes a second for Jason to truly place its owner. But when he turns around, there’s no denying its the Red Robin, his costume dripping red from blood._

_“Fuck, replacement, what happened to you?” And he does it all without thinking: grabbing onto Tim, checking to see if there is any other real issues. He can tell the man is feeling faint by the way he holds on to Jason, and genuine fear boils inside Jason. If Dick or Bruce catches them like this, they’ll only assume the worst, and Jason has been trying his best to not fall out of grace again in the eyes of the family. But Tim’s blood is warm on his hand where he holds his side._

_“Got shot,” Tim’s voice is shaky. Jason should try to call Dick or Bruce or Steph or anyone, really, because Tim should not be here. He cannot even recall the last time they’ve talked in the past year. “I need you — I need your help.”_ **)**

 

And it becomes a routine after that for months to come. Jason always helping Tim anytime he got injured. If he’s on a mission and hurt, he comes back to Jason’s safe-house. But then it becomes even more then that. Tim coming to the house even when he is not injured. Tim familiar in the way he walks around the living room. And then Tim is involving himself in Jason’s missions, tense at any gunshots or killings done by Jason’s hands, but still at Jason’s side the entire time. And he never explains why he’s always there, a new constant in Jason’s life. But Jason becomes used to cleaning Tim’s blood out of his carpet.

But he is not used to Tim ever returning the favour. Jason can handle himself, and he can handle healing himself. But this time he was wounded in his right hand, left hand uncoordinated in the way it tried to wash off the blood, and Tim, gentle and _beautiful_ , saying, “Just let me help you.”

He wanted to fight it. It’s one thing for him to touch someone else, to care for someone else, but another thing for anyone to care for him. Tim shouldn’t even be here with him. Tim shouldn’t even trust him. Jason has proven time and time again that he is not worthy of trust. Is not worthy of Tim. And in a moment of regret, Jason wonders who cleaned up Tim after Jason attacked him so long ago.

Tim snaps him out of his thoughts. “There,” and Jason looks over. His hand is wrapped now, blood no longer able to be seen. A smile graces Tim’s lips as Jason looks at him, and all Jason can think coherently is a swear word. If he was braver, maybe he’d reach his hand out to stroke his hair back, crack a joke on how it’s getting too long. Or maybe he’d pull Tim closer to him, lips close to his own, say something like, _i’m not used to people caring about me, kid, you’re gonna give me a heart attack._

Instead, cowardice hiding in between his teeth, he can only mutter a, “Thanks,” tries to flex his hand. A dull ache pierces through him at the movement. But before he can try again, Tim’s hands are on his own again, but he’s pulling on them. And before Jason can even try to pull away, Tim presses a kiss in the palm, the gauze stifling any feeling Jason would have of his lips.

It ends as quickly as it begins, and Tim lets go of him. “It’s okay to let people take care of you, Jason,” and he doesn’t even let Jason respond, just gets up to return the first-aid kit to the bathroom, leaving Jason alone. And if Jason were _brave_ —

But he’s not. And he tries to ignore the hurt expression on Tim’s face when Jason tells him he should leave early that night.


End file.
